


Mission

by Loxare



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Just hum the Mission Impossible theme song for this one., Sad, which then turns to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10488759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxare/pseuds/Loxare
Summary: Jason and Cass have a mission. Infiltrate. Acquire target. Do not get caught.





	

In any other team up, it would be Jason taking the forefront, scoping out potential trouble and waving his partner on. Roy had feet like lead compared to him, and Kori was simply not inconspicuous. But Cass was just plain sneakier than him. So when her hand waved at him impatiently from down the hall, it was him who came up behind her shoulder, bare feet making no sound on the carpet.

This was a delicate operation, one they had been planning for a month. Sneaking past all the external security alone had taken precious hours, hours they would need to get back out. In fact, it was only due to Cass's insider knowledge, much more recent than Jason's, that had even allowed them to get this far. One of the windows on the second floor wasn't wired. An oversight, maybe, but the occupant of the room normally didn't allow for intruders. Now, the occupant was gone, like the rest of them, and the window hadn't yet been connected to the security system.

And now they were inside. The floor creaked, despite the age of the building and the settling of its timbers. But a practiced hand, or foot as the case may be, could navigate the aged hallway without a single creak or groan. And Jason and Cass were very practiced.

Cass raised her eyebrow. Jason pointed, walked his fingers across his other palm, then gestured with his chin. Cass rolled her eyes. Jason made a face, raising an eyebrow and pulling a frown into one side of his mouth. Cass motioned with both hands, twiddled her fingers, then made a sharp gesture ending with a head tilt. Jason slumped his shoulders and nodded. Cass fist pumped.

Carefully, Jason slotted his feet into the spaces between the banister posts. On the other side of the staircase, Cass did the same. Trusting that she would be able to keep her silence, Jason focused on his own movement. Fifteen clear steps. Avoid the sixteenth space, the post there was loose. As was the twenty-second, and the twenty sixth had a nail that refused to stay down. Very painful to step on.

If Dick were here, he would have simply slid down the banister. And given himself away. Even the slight whisper of cloth on wood is too loud, and the thud at the end would wake the dead. No, better to climb.

Finally, they reached the bottom. As carpet transitioned into hardwood, Jason took a step forward. Only to have a hand shoot out and grab his collar, pulling his body back so his foot didn't trigger the motion sensor he hadn't known was there. He gulped, then nodded his thanks. Cass's insider knowledge was definitely better than his.

Their goal was in sight. But just beyond that door was the most dangerous part of their mission. It wasn't wired. There were no sensors or cameras save the ones on the exterior entrances. But entering it, heck, looking at it sideways, would be enough to summon its perennial occupant. There was some kind of magic, some mystic force surrounding it, which Jason had yet to find a way around. Until today. While the building was indeed occupied, the creator of their prize was not in.

They ghosted to the door. Cass pointing out traps, Jason helping her up and over sensors a bit too tall for her legs. And jumping was not an option. They had a (silent) argument about whether the knob was trapped until Jason pointed out (by straightening his spine and imitating a dart hitting him in the neck) that it wouldn't be prudent to do so on a room that was used so often. Cass concurred, with a wave indicating that he should go first.

With a tremble that he would deny to his dying day, Jason reached for the knob. His gloves would protect him from electrical shocks to some extent, but darts, gas and pitfalls were all fair game and very possible. Luckily, his theory held true. There was no trap, and no slight click of a breaking circuit, which would inform the occupants of their presence. The door opened only enough to let them in, the well oiled hinges making no noise.

And there it was. Sitting on the table under glass, like a precious museum artifact. The Holy Grail. The Philosopher's Stone.

Alfred's cookies.

Jason's mouth watered at the sight of them. Sixteen dozen, baked in preparation of whatever gala Bruce was hosting tomorrow. Ever since the old man had lost his memories, ever since Alfred had banned them from the Manor for Bruce's well being, none of the Batkids had had any.

They could have asked, certainly, but that entailed calling. That meant the possibility of Bruce picking up the phone. And none of them could handle that right now. Hearing his voice. His voice with its completely different inflections. With the terrible emptiness, the way he responded to his childrens' voices as he did to strangers. Tim had tried. Once. Jason didn't dare.

With the utmost care, Jason and Cass lifted the lid of the glass case, designed to keep the cookies fresh until the guests could get at them. They set it noiselessly on the marble counter top. Bruce may not have his memories, but he still had a bat's hearing, and they couldn't jeopardize the mission this late in the game. They paused a moment, then pulled the plastic containers out of their bags and started filling. If Alfred were here, he would have shown up by now. But he was at the vintners getting a late shipment of fine wine.

By the time they were done, there wasn't a crumb left for the guests. That was fine. There would be so much food that they probably wouldn't notice.

Getting out was easier. It was nothing to disable the security once they were on the inside. Before they left, they pilfered a tub of ice cream each from the freezer. Neapolitan and dark chocolate. Alfred still stocked their favourites.

Two hours later, they sat on top of the Bill Finger Memorial Building. Their ice cream had been preserved by the cold winter air. Jason pulled his spoon out of his mouth and commented, “Good thing it didn't snow. That would have ruined everything.” Cass nodded. A tear pricked at her eyelid. “Oh hey, Cass. Shhh...” Setting his ice cream down, he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know.” He looked for words of comfort. But he had never been good at those. “I know.” A tear coursed down his own cheek. Cass, wonderful Cass, the best sister in the world, didn't comment on it.

Tomorrow, they would call up the rest of the family. Tomorrow, they would revel in their victory and relish the pure goodness that was Alfred's baking. But today, the ice cream turned bitter on their tongues and they had to content themselves with sitting on the rooftop, crying away the loss of their father, within arm's reach, but so, so far away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *snickers evilly*


End file.
